


Home

by Rhoa Lajak (cw151)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Reunions, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-07 22:30:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20476823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cw151/pseuds/Rhoa%20Lajak
Summary: Arya takes a chance.





	Home

Arya slowly made her way along the road leading from the port at the bottom of the cliffs up to Storm’s End. Nymeria was pacing at her side, taller than Arya had ever seen her; Nymeria’s shoulders were at the same height as Arya’s by now.

As they went along, the people around them stopped and stared at them openly. One cart coming towards them even almost ran off the side of the road when the driver spotted them.

Arya returned the stares around her with a nod and what she hoped was a friendly face. It was a sunny day, but true to the name of the land, wind was whipping and twisting around her, pulling at her hair and flapping the ends of her coat. Arya found that she liked what she saw and felt. Storm’s End was rough and tough and it reminded her of the North. Navigating Shipbreaker’s Bay had already been a challenge for her experienced captain. To live in this corner of the world required an deep knowledge of the elements, a strong community and an unyielding mindset.

They turned a corner by a large rock, and suddenly, the fort itself came into view. It was massive, and Arya’s step faltered for a second. Storm’s End seemed to have been thrust into the white cliff on which it stood. Though she’d often heard of its imposing walls before, it was an entirely different thing to see them before her. They were at least five times as high as the walls of Winterfell and perfectly smooth, untouched, it seemed, by time, the sea, or the weather. For a brief second, Arya thought that if the Army of the Dead had ever made it this far South, there was a significant chance that Storm’s End would have actually withstood it.

The tower behind the walls was even higher, almost twice their size, and so heavy and sturdy that not even the Gods would be able to move it. As she came closer, Arya could make out windows on the land-facing side flanked by thick shutters.

The road was getting busier, and soon, Arya reached a relatively small gate in the castle walls. The wooden doors, thicker than the length of Arya’s arm, stood open, but a pair of guards with spears blocked the entrance.

“Who are you and what is your business in the castle?” one of them demanded.

“I’m Arya of House Stark. I’m here to see – Lord Gendry Baratheon,” Arya replied. Her heart picked up a beat when she said his name, and her mouth had trouble not to stumble over it.

The guard threw a long look at Nymeria but did not seem scared in the slightest, which surprised Arya. Even in the North many people had been scared of the Stark’s direwolves. But here, ever since Nymeria had greeted Arya by the shore, Nymeria merely seemed to inspire curiosity in the people around them.

The guard turned, waved over another soldier standing in the courtyard, and turned to the second guard at his side.

“Stay here. I’ll take them inside.”

In the courtyard, the guard told Arya to stay where she was before he headed off towards the castle with quick steps. For a second Arya played the thought of following him and to find Gendry alone, but she scrapped it right away. She wanted to do this right. Gendry deserved it.

Instead, she took in her surroundings. The courtyard was shaded by the large walls, and neither the wind nor the sea could be heard. There were living quarters built high up against the wall facing towards land, and stables on the side facing the sea. Workers were bustling about, she could hear chickens clucking from an enclosure near the gate, and the clanging of swords by practicing soldiers.

If she closed her eyes it almost sounded like Winterfell.

Arya dug her hands into Nymeria’s fur. They still caught many curious looks, but most people in the courtyard were too busy to pay them much mind.

Suddenly, Arya heard a pair of footsteps echoing from inside the castle and only a few seconds later, Gendry appeared on the top of the set of stairs leading to the castle’s entry.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Arya’s heart was in her throat, so she swallowed, stood up a bit straighter and lowered her head slightly.

“Lord Gendry.” She was relieved when her voice sounded clear and calm.

Gendry bowed his head in return but continued to just stare at her. His hair was still short, cut to within an inch of his head, and he was still as lean as the last time she’d seen him. He was paler, which Arya assumed came with spending more time inside on his Lord’s duties. His clothes were still relatively simple, though – he wasn’t wearing any jewelry or fancy buckles, even if the good quality of his clothes was visible.

When Gendry still hadn’t said anything after half a minute, a man behind him moved. It was Ser Davos.

“Lady Arya, it is a pleasure to see you again, especially after the long and dangerous journey that certainly lies behind you. Why don’t you come inside to rest a little,” he said warmly. Arya returned his smile. Ser Davos turned to Gendry and made a subtle motion towards the entrance of the castle.

Gendry turned, and Ser Davos gestured invitingly towards Arya.

Arya gave Nymeria a quick pat, and the direwolf walked towards a corner of the courtyard where there was a bit of sun to lie down.

During their walk through the castle corridors – which involved a lot of stairs – Arya did her best to follow Ser Davos’ explanations of the castle and Storm’s End, but her eyes and her thoughts were firmly focused on Gendry walking in front of them. She supposed he was angry, and she couldn’t fault him for it. Still, she hoped that he’d at least give her the opportunity to explain.

The finally reached a large room that looked like Gendry’s study. The walls were covered in dark wood and there was a small window through which the cliffs and a small part of the sea were visible. Gendry’s war hammer leant against the side of a large fireplace, and a desk near the window was covered in scrolls.

Ser Davos excused himself, mumbling about a meeting with the Master of the Stables and left the two of them alone in the room.

Gendry looked at Arya again but once again didn’t say anything and only knitted his brow.

“I’m glad that Ser Davos decided to join you rather than stay on the King’s council. I’m sure he’s been a lot of help in the last two years.” Arya offered honestly.

When there was still no reply, Arya ignored the hurt gnawing in her stomach and took a few slow steps towards him instead.

“If you’re not going to talk to me, you should’ve told me to fuck off while we’re still in the courtyard. Would’ve saved me all those stairs.”

Gendry huffed.

“I want to talk to you. ‘m just – I don’t know where to begin.” His voice didn’t sound particularly angry, just tired.

“Ok, then I’ll start,” Arya replied. Then she swallowed and took a deep breath. Here it went. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you before I left. I’m not sorry for what I said because I meant it, but – I should have explained better, I think. I – it – just – so much happened at once. Everything was different all of a sudden, and when I said that’s not me, I – just – I was scared, because all my life I tried to get away from that, so I said it, but it didn’t mean that I – fucking hell!”

Arya rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to punch something. This was not going well. Maybe she should have practiced what she wanted to say. She _had_ had plenty of time on the way.

Gendry raised his hand and sighed.

“Look, I get it, alright? I really do. Now, anyway, not back then. I was angry and hurt for a long time, but then – I had to spend a few months at the King’s court, and that’s where I saw what you meant. Around here, there’s hardly any fancy lords ‘n ladies left after my uncles’ wars, and with me bein’ their lord it’s all been a bit – unusual. But up there, it was so different. The ladies were so, so – and the lords wanted them that way, and it didn’t take me long to figure out that if this was what you were thinking of, it would’ve been a nightmare for you.”

Arya’s breath hitched.

“So, you’re not angry at me?”

“Not anymore, no,” Gendry replied calmly. “Besides, ‘s not as if I didn’t have my share of things that night. I was drunk, and overwhelmed, and maybe if I’d just taken a moment to think or to put my head together I would’ve realized that the night before the battle wasn’t about love or anythin’, just – fun, and maybe our last chance at it, anyway.”

Arya stilled and she closed her eyes. This was it. She had no idea how this would end, but she had to try.

“It wasn’t, though, at least not for me. Just fun, I mean.”

When she carefully opened her eyes again, she found Gendry staring at her incredulously.

“That’s what I tried to say. When I said no to you, I didn’t say no to _you_. All I’d wanted ever since I got to King’s Landing as a girl was to go home again, for things to go back to how they were, all the Starks in Winterfell, all of us being happy, just like it all used to be. It was what I worked for for so long. But when it was all over, when the Dead were defeated, I knew that no matter what happened, things never would go back to how they were. Winterfell was Sansa’s now, Bran wasn’t Bran anymore, and Jon would leave us again, and I was – there wasn’t a place in Winterfell for me anymore. And so I told myself that if I didn’t have a place in Winterfell, and if I didn’t want to be some lord’s little lady, then maybe I would find my place somewhere else in the world.”

“And did you?” Gendry asked quietly.

Arya shook her head.

“No. Because wherever I went, whichever new place I ended up in, it just showed me how much it wasn’t my home.”

Gendry folded his arms. “Is that why you came back to Westeros?”

Arya nodded and started to wander around the room.

“I met this – I met this woman. Her name is Na’Ati. She’s one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen.” Gendry smiled lightly at the admiration in Arya’s eyes. “And one of the best leaders. She and her husband are heads of a tribe in a place where we first set foot on land, and where we kept coming back to. She reminded me of my mother a lot, too, probably because she has seven children. Anyway, at some point she asked me what I was looking for, and when I told her “home”, she laughed. She said that home is something you build, not something you find. The only thing you can find is someone to build it with together.”

Gendry’s expression became guarded. Arya stopped and looked at him.

“She was right. I won’t get my home in Winterfell back how it was, no matter what I do. And I won’t be able to find home anywhere else in the world, because I have to build it on my own.” Arya took a deep breath. She had never felt so vulnerable and exposed, but she was determined to finish all of this. “And I want to do it together with the only one that I could ever imagine having a home or a family with.”

Gendry still hadn’t moved, but his face became a kaleidoscope of emotions. He bit his lip.

“Is that why you’re here?” His voice sounded pressed.

Arya nodded.

“Even if it means that you’d be Lady of Storm’s End?” Gendry added cautiously.

Arya nodded once more. “Yes, if you let me be your equal so we can build our life and our home _together_.”

Gendry almost looked offended.

“I’d never treat you less than that,” he huffed.

Arya couldn’t stop a smile from spreading on her lips.

“I know. That’s why I’m here, for you.”

Gendry chuckled and crossed the room towards her. He reached up to cup her face and rested his forehead against hers.

“Welcome home, m’lady.”


End file.
